


And hope to keep us safe from the pain

by windandthestars



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e13 Sanctuary for None: part 2, F/F, F/M, Kink, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're still living in one of the safe houses, well away from the city's highways, with her eyes pressed closed she can see each of the tiny rooms, but even they are hazy, blurred at the edges by the omnipresent humming of engines and the shuffling tired feet that had filled that first night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And hope to keep us safe from the pain

**Author's Note:**

> Season 4 Spoilers
> 
> Full list of kinks in the end notes including strap-ons, pegging, enemas, fisting, breathplay, and crossdressing
> 
> Title from the song 'The Space Between' by the Dave Mathew's Band

There's not much Abby remembers from the last couple of weeks other than the feeling of red hot heat against her face and the brilliant red and orange that had lit up the night sky for hours. The rest was a massive ache in her chest. It all blurs together like the rumble of the truck engines beneath her feet, within her hands. The street names, Will's directions, don't exist, they never have. That one long night had stretched into an eternity: autopilot, determination, and steel nerves.

They're still living in one of the safe houses, well away from the city's highways, with her eyes pressed closed she can see each of the tiny rooms, but even they are hazy, blurred at the edges by the omnipresent humming of engines and the shuffling tired feet that had filled that first night. 

They're still working at SCIU. Even with Addison gone she’s still terrified of being here. At least that hadn’t changed. One slip up would mean her career, possibly her life. Even so, it's safer this way, at least that's what Will says and she's too exhausted, too worried to think otherwise. There are two rules now, stay safe and make sure Will keeps his head down. He may be the telling her to lie low, but he's having a hard time of it. 

He's still angry about what's happened. She is too, but with him it's different. He's all raw nerves and paranoia. He's quiet most of the time, even when they're not in the office and while she would like to think he's being contemplative, grieving in that quiet brooding way of his, she knows that's not the truth. He's keeping things from her and while she doesn't understand she's trying to.

She doesn't push despite the fact there have been moments when she had wanted nothing more than to scream at him. She had wanted to tell him to look at her; this wasn't all about him, she was here too, but she knows it's more complicated than that. He's trying to protect her and she wants so desperately to appreciate that.

She's always been good at keeping quiet, forgoing even the most silent of reproaches, but she's struggling now, the tips of her fingers sore from the blunt edges of the chain that hangs around her neck. Back and forth the tiny charm whizzes under her guidance, humming at a frequency only she can hear: idling motors, static on the tv, the water running in an empty shower.

It's a gift from Will, a fern leaf, a replacement for the plants she had killed with her unfortunately black thumb. Will had told her once what it meant, but she's forgotten. It wouldn't matter anyway if she did remember, it probably didn't mean the same thing anymore. Symbols, value, worth, they don’t mean much to her anymore. A fern was a fern; it didn't tie her to him, her heart had done that in its stead. It's not much of a reminder of the time before this all either because it makes her think of her office, the one she had left behind at the FBI, and that more than anything reminds her of how trapped she is here at SCIU.

As much as it’s the past, the old meaning, all those things they used to say to each other, there's something else there, something else that won't ever go away and she hangs on to that, clings to it. Will would never let anything happen to her. He may be loyal to Magnus to a fault, but he will always protect her, always believe in her. He'll buy her potted plant after potted plant to save her from that loss. She hangs on to that, to that wonder at the idea that anyone could be that stubborn, that willing to see past the obvious fault in their plan, for her.

"You're doing it again," he whispers as he passes by her desk, dropping a stack of files beside her laptop and she drops the necklace, eyes skirting around the room to discern if anyone had noticed her lack of attention.

It was getting harder and harder to focus on her work, eventually someone would notice and it wouldn't be good. The whole organization was waiting for someone to crack. They needed someone to blame, people to lock up, people to discard. SCIU was disintegrating out from under her but there was no way Abby was going to be one of those people. Not if she wanted to keep Will and Kate safe.

She flips open the first of the folders Will had left and bites back a wince, stuffing the letter he had left for her onto her lap. She would have to slip it into her suit jacket and make her way into the bathroom to read it. He should have waited until he knew she could get away. He was getting sloppy. She wasn't the only one who was beginning to feel desperately trapped.

It's another hour and two nerve wracking phone calls before she can get away and even then her nerves don't settle. The specifics of his note aren't clear but the underlying message is. They won't be coming back to SCIU on Monday.

****

That night after turning off the tv in their crowded living room she burrows into his chest, stubborn and clingy, desperate to choke back the tears she refuses to cry. He comforts her in the absentminded manner he's developed: a parent soothing a nervous child. She whimpers and kicks at the blankets he had tucked up around her shoulders, squirming until he brushes a kiss against her forehead with a quiet hush.

"I'm tired Abby."

 _Behave._ She grits her teeth together, forcing herself not to snap at him. She was tired too. She was the one who came home and cooked dinner, cleaned up, and lugged their laundry down five flights of stairs into the dark damp basement where the leaky washing machine was stashed. She was tired, lonely, and terrified.

Outside on the fire escape something rattles: Kate making her way down to the street. If Will hears anything he doesn't let on.

"Read to me?" She whispers. She wants to hear him smile, she wants to get lost in the sound of his voice, in the gentle teasing laugh, and the ever present jokes. She knows it's the last thing he wants to do tonight. The afternoon at the office had been one carefully dodged catastrophe after another, a trial made worse by her increasingly sour mood which had lead to their bickering the entire way home. She wanted to understand what he was up to, but Helen Magnus wasn't the only one capable of keeping a secret. "Please?"

He sighs and pages rustle as she's jostled around so he can set the book in his lap. It's an old worn paperback she'd found hidden in the back of one of the kitchen drawers. It's a children's classic judging by the elaborate drawing on the front, but the entire thing is in French. Will's French is passable, but Abby can't understand a word. He had offered to translate, slowly and with care, or better yet buy another book, but she wanted him to read this one, the one tie she had to whoever else had inhabited this space, the only real connection she had to the time before all of this.

He makes a slow study of the text tonight, frequently shifting the book to make the most of the yellow light from their sole bedside lamp. There had been two lamps in the beginning. She had swept broken shards of glass from the floor the morning after they had moved in, careful not to miss a single sliver, fearful she would find it later embedded in the soft pads of her feet.

She had knocked the lamp to the floor in a sudden clumsy spreading of her arms. Will that night had been insatiable and she had wept with ecstasy, floating, light, tethered only by the rushes of sensation he created. Will had always been attentive but that night he had had a single focus, her and only her. He had lost himself in her and she in him. In those hours she became his everything and he had been intent on letting her know that, every inch of her humming with his careful attention.

She yearned for that now, for the closeness, for the improbability of rational thought. Tucked against him, in his arms, she felt safe, but she hadn't felt whole since that night. There was something missing in her, something missing in them.

She falls asleep transported by the sound of his voice and wakes disoriented in the gray predawn light. The book lies in the space between them, open pages turned down toward the mattress. Will sleeps fitfully on the far side of the bed.

It's Saturday, there aren't any lunches to make, but there's plenty of work to do within the four walls that would rapidly become their prison. They weren't supposed to go out alone, a decree that was part mutual agreement and part unrelenting stubbornness on Will's part.

Abby latches the window in the kitchen, careful to slide the rough brick fragments used as a wedge into the shadow of the windowsill before she does so. Kate had been out late, later than usual given the dewy footprints dispersed across the permanently yellowed floor. Will was going to catch on eventually, but Abby was intent on making sure that didn't happen any time soon. How ever it was that Kate was spending her nights, it wasn't anybody's business.

They're almost out of instant coffee but the stash of junkfood Abby had been amassing from the vending machines at SCIU hadn't been touched overnight. Wherever Kate had gone she had fed herself. Abby adds in the two bags of chips from the day before and slips the finicky drawer shut before plugging in the electric kettle. Will would be up soon and she wanted to have something for him to eat when he woke.

***

She had officially transferred back to the FBI and taken her amassed vacation time. Will was on leave from SCIU, but when she wakes late Monday morning she finds him gone. Kate who's burrowed on the couch watching tv with the sound off confirms that he had left several hours prior. "He didn't even notice me sitting here munching my way through a bag of salt and vinegar chips." She grumbles.

"He's coming back isn't he?"

Kate reaches to pull a takeout flyer from the stack on the coffee table. "Of course he is," but even she doesn't sound so sure. "Can you go out and pick up some donuts? No offense to your cooking but I'm getting really sick of oatmeal every morning."

Abby laughs, startling herself and Kate cracks a grin. The oatmeal was getting a bit tiresome; she had always thought it tasted a bit like paste, but it was easy to make and it kept Will from eating his weight in cereal and decimating their modest budget. "Morning?" She teases and Kate rolls her eyes.

"Early... afternoon."

That afternoon Abby eats the last of the oatmeal and Kate gobs frosting onto a pair of toaster strudels they had found in the back of the freezer.

**

That night she dreams Will comes back, curling around her while she sleeps, but when she yawns, stretching, it's Kate's head that's tucked under her chin. The dinner she had left for Will is missing from the fridge, the clean dish setting in the drainer with a fork, but there's no other sign that he had been there or even slept at all.

After that, the days slide together and Abby finds she's beginning to keep strange hours, sitting up waiting for Kate to return, for Will to appear and nuzzle sleepily at the side of her neck while he catches a few sparse hours of sleep. Kate on the other hand, begins to stay in during the darkest, loneliest parts of the night, keeping close to her the entire time.

Abby finds comfort in their warm bodies, their quiet sleepy sighs, but she hardly sleeps away these hours. She sits vigilantly watching them, fingers tracing eyelids and soft lips. Will thrown headlong into sleep by exhaustion hardly ever wakes, but Kate frequently stirs into awareness to nip playfully at her fingertips or wind her fingers under Abby's clothes searching for warm bare skin.

It's that, the tiniest whispering of fingers against long untended skin, that starts it all. She's swept away by it all and suddenly Abby finds she's no longer leaving windows cracked throughout the evening, but rather that she's the one that's cracked, split open under Kate's hands.

It terrifies her, the places that Kate pushes her to, but it's the kind of fear she can control, something in all this chaos that holds steady and so she allows it, slowly losing herself in it all until, looking back, she can scarcely believe it had happened.

Kate was the one with the need for pain, blistered feet and carefully bruised hands. She had spent her nights out running, fighting, anything to chase away the ghosts. She had needed the distraction, but now she needed this more. "I won't hurt you." Kate had promised soothingly while Abby had stared at her, wide eyes fixed on the dildo that had bobbed ridiculously between Kate's legs as she had crossed the room.

"I won't hurt you." The phrase becomes a sort of motto, a repeated promise as they faced Will's continued absence alone, together. He would leave notes on occasion, cryptic clues more than anything, but it staved off the worry when he started disappearing for days at a time. He was working to find Magnus, she was sure of that, but it didn't make the waiting, the loneliness any less acute. He had promised her they would face this together. His lips ghosting her skin, trailed between her breasts he had promised her forever. The only together she had now was Kate and forever- forever was a bitter thought.

"Kate." It's a whimpered protest, a hopeless one Abby knows, but she hasn't been disabused of the practice yet.

"I won't hurt you. Abby, look at me."

She knows. She knows but she also knows that there's no part of her left hidden from Kate. What Kate wants she finds a way to get eventually, and while Abby may protest, Kate was more persuasive than Abby had imagined. Impatient and eager in everything else, in this Kate was careful and tolerant. Abby's hard won submission was a greater high than anything else she could find here.

"You've already had my cock up that pretty little ass of yours."

Abby blushes furiously but nods at the memory: Kate carefully brushing the hair back from her shoulder, the gentle roll of her hips.

"And you're all nice and cleaned out."

Abby whimpers this time, looking away, embarrassed tears threatening. Kate's not warm and comforting in the way that Will is, but the bed beside Abby dips and she leans into Kate, breathing in the warm soapy smell of Kate's skin.

"This is the third time and now you go and get embarrassed on me?" Kate teases, warm fingers dancing down Abby's back. Abby sighs, tensing. Kate had been so proud this time, so pleased with Abby's faint whimpers and her obedience. "One more minute," Kate had murmured as Abby's stomach had cramped unpleasantly, eyes fixed firmly on the toilet beside the tub where she had sat next to the discarded enema bag.

"It hurts," she had finally whispered and the calm on Kate's face had broken, tiny furrows in her brow.

"I'll be right outside. I'm so proud of you." She had smiled softly. _So proud._

"Yeah," Abby breathes out in agreement. _This time._

"We don't have to."

"I want to." It sounds a lot more stubborn than she feels, but Kate knows that. Kate who's so gentle and tender with her now, but who had pummeled holes in the walls with her fists, who had run until her feet had bleed.

The third time's the charm Will would quip if he were here, but he's not. They haven't seen him in days and Abby's mad. She won't say anything, not unless he provokes her, but that doesn't make it any less true. She had done so much for him, was doing so much for him. She just wanted him to appreciate that; she knew Kate did.

"It's like riding a bike." Kate assures her in a way that makes her laugh, while she's sure this is something she'll never forget, that's not what Kate means. Learning to ride a bike was terrifying, exhilarating, but relatively easy; the only thing you had to remember was to pedal backwards to stop. There weren't any proverbial trees here but that doesn't mean Abby couldn't find one if she went looking for it.

Kate's methodical, her muttered reassurances the same incomprehensible wanderings as the French fairytale. _Slow,_ that was the one word that registered over and over again. It was a reminder to them both, no surprises, nice and slow, days pass slowly, weeks and nights slower yet. Slow. 

Kate pauses when her fingers knot together to slip her pinky inside. _Cross your fingers for luck._. Abby breathes out from her nose feeling a bit claustrophobic; she's not trapped in a small space, but she's being held by one and it's terrifying.

"So good." Kate smiles and Abby doesn't pause to wonder if she means her or the feeling of her hand slowly inching its way into her ass.

"Keep going." Abby's surprised by how breathless she sounds, how eager, her head buzzing faintly with each carefully measured inhale.

*

They run out of cereal two days later, the tiny flicker of joy Abby had coasted on extinguished without warning, the empty refrigerator whispered as Kate poured the crumbs from the bottom of the box.

"I can go." Kate had assured her, but stubbornly in charge of all things domestic Abby had steadfastly refused. They needed groceries, real groceries, not another takeout menu and a grocery bag full of pop tarts.

They play at making up disguises. Abby's scared of going out alone. There's no real way to tell if they're in any danger but if SCIU or any of Caleb's men are out looking for her she doesn't want to chance it. Kate could come with her, but she's equally afraid of leaving the apartment unattended if Will came back. He should be back soon, this is the longest he's been gone and she doesn't want to scare him. He was counting on them to both be here when he got back, letting him come back to an empty apartment was a betrayal she didn't want to contemplate.

Kate's leather jacket is the first thing Abby grabs. She had picked it up from a thrift store on one of her lunch breaks at SCIU, wanting to bring Kate something that reminded her of her place at the Sanctuary. It had seemed important then, and despite the fact she's never seen the jacket on Kate, it has made its way around the apartment. Deep black and well worn the jacket's big even on her, but it's comforting, the earthy smell and the soft smooth texture.

They raid Will's collection of clothing next, pulling out a couple of t-shirts and a sweatshirt. Abby's haphazard wardrobe lends a bulky cotton sweater and a pair of worn jeans. Kate finds a winter hat in the back of the coat closet and with a devilish grin for Kate's benefit Abby begins to dress. By the time she's finished she feels rather ridiculous. It's cold outside, and the walk to the store will take her quite awhile but more than that, with her hair tucked up into the hat, and the extra bulk from the clothes she's hardly recognizable even to herself.

"Will Junior." Kate declares her despite the fact Abby knows she looks more like one of the construction guys working around the corner than any incarnation of Will she had ever seen. "It's quite flattering." Kate presses and they both dissolve into laughter.

"It's perfect." Abby agrees when she's caught her breath. "I'll be back soon."

The first few steps out of the apartment are the most terrifying, but after she makes it a couple of blocks without drawing any attention she relaxes a bit. She may not be completely safe, but there's no one tailing her and the trip to the store shouldn't take too long. They would be fine.

The store itself throws her. Cooped up in the apartment for weeks, she's not used to the noise or the lights, the ever present chatter of people talking, the ding of the cash registers. Outside she had felt safe, in here she feels trapped. 

She's suddenly been thrown into chaos. Everyone here has their place, their role, they move around each other with purpose, but standing here anonymous, not quite herself, there's no role for her to play. She stumbles past the other customers, mumbling apologies and scolding her cart and its lame wheel. Blindly she throws groceries into the cart, two gallons of milk but no cereal, spaghetti but no sauce.

She moves threw the sea of unseeing faces until she reaches the back of the store, the nondescript swinging door and a sign 'Employees Only'. Breathe, she reminds herself, attempting to number the days since she had last past through the front doors of the store. She had been here that first night, another lifetime ago. She hadn't panicked, she hadn't cursed, she had walked through the aisles and gathered the supplies they had needed.

No one here knew her. She didn't know herself, not anymore and there was freedom in that. A half dozen donuts, another box of oatmeal, she makes quick work of the rest of her list: extra bags of chips, a book for her to read herself. The total cost is staggering but she pays it with a smile, carefully hefting her bags out of the cart and heading back to the apartment.

Kate’s waiting for her, grinning easily. The food makes its way into the cupboard and the fridge. Kate pulls the hat from Abby’s head, blonde waves falling to her shoulders. “You made it.”

“That place is loud.” Abby offers, “I don’t remember it being that loud.”

“Mid morning Saturday,” Kate shrugs and Abby’s startled by the date.

“That would explain the lack of oxygen.” Abby attempts to joke, slotting the last cereal box into the cupboard. “The whole place was choked with people.”

“Choked?” Kate muses over the implications aloud, eyes darkening. Abby shivers as Kate brushes her hand over her neck. “Choking,” she repeats and Abby takes a step back, bumping against the wall.

“It’s a wicked high.” Kate’s still musing but her voice has dropped to a raspy whisper. They haven’t tried this yet, Kate’s not pushing it and Abby’s too nervous about having a ring of bruises speckle her neck. Kate’s always careful but there’s always a chance, there’s always a chance there’s something more terrifying than the look of disappointment in Will’s eyes.

“I- What if Will?”

Kate snorts, the mood lightening once again. “Afraid he’ll ring your neck.”

“Will would never-“

“Will would never what?” Will’s voice is light with humor. Abby, startled, turns to face him as a smile spreads across Kate’s face. She hadn’t heard the lock on the front door click but it must have because he stands in the doorway, watching Kate curiously.

“Nothing.” Kate assures him. “We were just fooling around.”

He nods, grins and Abby takes a cautious step forward. His clothes are clean, his face clear of its usual layer of grime. “You found her.”

“Last night. She’s waiting for us, unless you’d rather stay.”

“We bought groceries, fruit loops,” Kate moans, but she doesn’t seem all that put off by the fact. Abby knows Kate will leave without a second thought, wherever Magnus is, Kate always has a home in Hollow Earth if it doesn’t work out.

“Would she-? Me?” Abby asks and Will shrugs nodding.

“We could use the help. Plus you really aught to see this place it’s-“ he shakes his head. “You really have to see it.

**Author's Note:**

> For kink_bingo: painplay (other), sleepy/unconscious, pegging/strap-ons, breathplay, enemas, fisting/stretching,  
> worship, subspace/headspace, ageplay, service, collars, vehicular, crossdressing, anonymity, authority figures, leather latex rubber


End file.
